


I'll be Better

by negans_lucille



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst and Smut, Controlling Dean Winchester, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Jealous Dean Winchester, Love, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Possessive Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Request fulfilled, Sex, Smut, Toxic Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, request, sober, touch of fluff, toxic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 14:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18209729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/negans_lucille/pseuds/negans_lucille
Summary: Your relationship with Dean Winchester is toxic, so toxic, you're ready to relapse. But Dean always pulls you back from the edge.This was a oneshot request from a follower on tumblr.





	I'll be Better

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by one of my lovely followers on tumblr! Follow me on there: negans-lucille-tblr :D <3

Staring down at the drink you’d ordered, you gulped. How had it come to this? You took a deep breath and grabbed the glass, bringing it to your lips. You could smell the whiskey as it burned your nose. You’d missed that smell too much. But as you thought about how long it had been, and how far you had come, you placed the glass back down on the bar top and glared at it instead. You dug into your pocket and pulled out your chip, a big shiny number eighteen engraved on it, celebrating the number of months you’d been sober. It was the hardest 18 months of your life. It used to be so easy to turn to drink for everything. Every time the going got tough, Jack and Jim were your best friends. And the going got tough a lot thanks to your asshole boyfriend.

  
Dean fucking Winchester, the love and bane of your life. It wasn’t even that he was a bad guy. Honestly, he was pretty great, but you were just no good for each other. You both knew it. But every time you tried to call it a day, something would stop you, like some impossible pull that kept you together. God, he was infuriating, ground down to your last nerve and got under your skin worse than anything, but you couldn’t stop loving him.  
You would fight about everything and anything. It had always been like that. Ever since you were kids. He would tease you and you would call him names. When you were younger it was playful, but as you got older the fights got more intense. You still called him names and he still teased you, but now it was borderline dangerous. The names were harsher, the teasing was relentless. He could make you feel like shit. You always told yourself to walk away. But that man, and his ridiculously good looks with his piercing green eyes, soft cheekbones, and chiseled jawline, that looked damn near irresistible when he didn’t shave. His lips were always so plump and kissable. And his body, god his body was  _perfect_. His muscles, his skin, everything was just right. He should’ve been everything you ever wanted, and for the most part he was. But Dean was a jealous guy. You so much as spoke to his younger brother for too long and he’d have something to say about it. He was possessive and controlling. During hunts, he’d tell you where to be and what to do, like you hadn’t had the same years of training he had, like you were clueless. You were more than capable, something Sam tried to remind him a lot. But he wouldn’t listen. You were his  _property_ and so he could do what he liked with you. You knew deep down, it was his way of protecting you, but you wished he trusted you enough to do these things for yourself. 

  
The more you thought about it, the more the measure of Jack in front of you seemed like a good idea. You’d not seen him since that morning. You’d stormed out of the motel room, yet again, after Dean tried to make you stay behind on a hunt. Instead, you spent the day doing your own digging on the haunted garage that seemed to curse cars and make them crash all by themselves. And you liked to think you’d done a pretty good job at finding a lead. But Dean wouldn’t see it that way. He’d call you reckless and careless, tell you there was a reason he told you to stay back. Like you couldn’t handle yourself. He saw you as weak and pathetic. And yeah, maybe being subject to 2 months of rehab and a further 16 months of AA meetings made it seem that way. But he failed to ever acknowledge he was the problem. But you could never leave. Even if you wanted to, Dean and Sam were all you had. They were family. A dysfunctional, crazy, family, but family none the less. You and Dean should’ve never complicated it by becoming involved five years ago, but it seemed like a great idea at the time. The unspoken chemistry between you, even Sam must’ve felt the tension some times. And like all relationships, at first it was good, great even. But the cracks started showing and soon, it was too late, you were down the rabbit hole and you weren’t getting out that easily. You sighed and brought the glass to your lips again. Fuck it, you were done trying so hard with no recognition.  
  


“Y/N!” You turned to see Dean storming towards you. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He snapped, literally knocking the glass out of your hand as it smashed on the bar top in front of you, whiskey spilling and sticking to the front of your shirt.

“Thanks for that, Dean.” You spat, trying to dry yourself off with your hand. The smell was intoxicating enough. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” he yelled, not caring half the bar were looking at you. You felt your cheeks flush red. “Does this fucking mean nothing to you? What the hell is wrong with you?” He continued, grabbing your chip off the top and shoving it in your face. 

“De…” you started.

“No, save it. I’m fucking sick of this shit.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you harshly off the bar stool. “We’re getting the fuck out of here before you throw 18 months down the fucking drain.” You let him drag you out of the bar. You knew he was upset that you’d almost relapsed, but he couldn’t get it into his head that he was the one that drove you to the edge, gave you a shove and yet expected you to keep your balance. 

“This is your fault,” You sobbed out, the tears hitting you quickly. You shrugged your arm free and stood rooted to your spot in the parking lot, between the motel bar and your room. 

“ _My_ fault?!” Dean turned around, his green eyes flashing black with anger.

“You treat me like shit, Dean. I’m a fucking hunter too, you can’t just lock me in motel rooms. I want to be out working the case with you." 

"You’re not ready.” He snapped. 

“18 fucking months, De. It’s been 18 months. I  _need_  to be out there with you both. I need to do stuff to keep my mind busy." 

"You worked the case today, behind my fucking back might I add, and look where you ended up, sweetheart.” He yelled. You didn’t know how to respond to that, really. He was right, you did end up at the bar after working a case. Force of habit you guessed, considering the amount of hunts that ended with a drunken night back in the day. But this was more than that. You wanted to escape. “I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want you going back to that dark place you were in. Where I felt I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t keep you safe there. But the hunts, I can. I can make sure nothing hurts you.” Dean’s voice had softened. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Dean had never opened up to you like this before. He’d never spoken about his feelings, not really. Sure he told you he loved you and you always knew that he was trying to protect you with these things, but you never realised how badly your drinking had affected him too. It was stupid really, you drank because of how he treated you, and he was only lashing out because of the downward spiral you were heading in. It was like some stupid, vicious circle.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you felt like that.” You admitted.

“You thought it didn’t bother me seeing you in that place? Y/N I love you, of course it did.” He frowned, stepping closer. “So next time you want to do something stupid and selfish like relapse, then maybe just think about the fact it’s not just you. It’s me too, the guy who has to pick you up off the fucking floor,” He was getting angry again, the tension raising once more.

“Oh that’s it, make it all about you again! You want this to be about you? Fine. You’re the fucking reason I drink in the first place!” you screamed. You’d never said that out loud before. Sure, it had been implied a few times, but now, it was out there, lingering in the silence. Dean didn’t say anything. He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying. He turned to walk away, as you stood there, tears streaming down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe he wasn’t going to say anything. You instantly regretted what you’d said. You’d always swore you’d never say it. “Dean…wait…” You ran after him, but he didn’t acknowledge you at all. “Dean, I’m sorry…” You sighed. He threw open the motel door and stormed into your room. You closed the door behind you. “Dean, baby I…”

“Me? What the fuck have I done to you that’s so fucking terrible? I love you, I try and keep you safe.” Dean finally spoke up, his words spat out of his mouth like bullets.

“We both know this relationship is toxic. God, arguing is all we fucking do. We argue and fuck and then we argue again. And that’s all we’ve done for 5 years now. My body feels on fire with how much I love you, but I hate that I do. I wish I didn’t. I really wish I didn’t love you.” You cried. Dean narrowed his green eyes and walked you back into the wall, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips.

“Then leave.” He whispered, the harsh tone in his voice still very much there.

“You know I can’t.” You whimpered. “You can’t either.” Dean’s eyes traveled to your lips, you watched as his puckered slightly, and in an instant, they were on yours. It was passionate and messy, like always. This was the only way you knew how to end an argument, to fuck it out. His lips could’ve bruised you with how hard they kissed you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. His teeth biting down on the sensitive flesh of your bottom lip. He used his hands to pin you to the wall by your hips, yours clinging onto him for dear life as you fisted the cotton of his shirt. His fingers fiddled with the buttons on your jeans as you felt them loosen around your hips, Dean pushing the material down your legs. He used his grip on you to spin you around so you were facing the wall, the cold rough texture of the wallpaper biting at your cheek. He pulled your hips back towards him so you were bent over more and after only a moment, you felt his fingers pull your panties to one side roughly. You waited on baited breath for his next move, hearing his belt unbuckle and his jeans unfasten. Within seconds, his cock was buried inside you. You drew a breath as it caught in your throat. One of Dean’s large hands took a fistful of the hair on the back of you head as he pressed your face into the wall further. You reached back to grip his hip as he started to thrust hard and fast, over and over as your pussy stretched to accommodate him perfectly. This was why neither of you could walk away. This was far too good to leave behind. Arching your back, his cock started to hit your sweet spot, your walls clenching around him, daring him to fuck you harder. He grunted, his fingertips digging into the flesh on your hip as the other hand pulled your hair harder. 

“Fuck, you’re right, baby, I could never leave this fucking pussy, it feels too damn good.” He growled. His hand left your hip and traveled to your front, his fingers prodding and rubbing your clit in circles. “You better fucking cum for me.” He grunted, “you ever want to feel good again, don’t you fucking dare think about drinking, you just tell me you need my dick and it’s fucking yours, sweetheart. Let me make you feel better, let me say sorry for being such a shitty boyfriend.” He gasped. “Promise me!” He thrust himself deeper still as you felt your climax building, higher and higher. 

“I fucking told you to promise.” He yells at you.“I promise, De, I promise!” You scream out, your orgasm taking over every nerve end in your body as your pussy pulsates around him.   
“Fuck,” Dean gasped, your walls daring him to reach his own orgasm. He used his grip on your hair to turn your face to the side, kissing your ear and over to your cheek as he filled your pussy with his hot cum. He stilled inside you, panting in your ear, the hot wet of his breath sticking to your skin as you both chased your high until it faded. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be better, I promise.” He gasped.

“Me too, De. Me too.” You agreed, knowing the promise would be broken by morning. It always was. 


End file.
